New Kid
by Whoneedsasword
Summary: Not long ago, Juan Carlos Ortiz was the new kid of SAMCRO. This is a shot story about how he got there, and how he made his best friend laugh for the very first time. Just a one-shot! Rated T for some language, but if you watch the show, it should be nothing new to you.


**Just a little one shot! I love the character of Juice, and I love the relationship he has/had with Chibs. This is just a sort of quick back story for Juice, with a little bit of Chibs thrown in for good measure. Also, a shoutout to Ambrosia Rush. I sort of used her idea for how Juice made his way into the Club. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! I would welcome any reviews!**

Juan Carlos Ortiz thought that it was really strange where life and circumstances had brought him. He was currently stuck behind the bar in the Sons of Anarchy club house, making sure everything was ready. The guys would be rolling in any minute now, after a long run, and they would most definitely be thirsty. As he finished stocking the cooler with various beers and arranging the liquors in alphabetical order, the young man couldn't help but laugh at how very different his life was now, especially when compared with what it was even a year ago.

Juan Carlos had been born and raised in Queens, NY. Juan Carlos's sad story was really no different than a million other kids; single mother, no father, too many bills, and not nearly enough money. With his mother too busy trying to keep a roof over their heads, trouble had found Juan Carlos at an early age. He had been arrested at twelve for shoplifting, and spent six months at Boys Town in Brooklyn. It was supposed to have been a juvenile lock up to lead young men away from a life of crime. Maybe for some boys it had done just that, but for Juan Carlos, all it had really done was given him his first computer class, which was pretty much his gateway to crime.

By the time Juan Carlos was sixteen, he had racked up four more arrests, and enough computer skills to officially make some real cash as a hacker. He was able to easily hack into financials, school records, police records, pretty much anything; and people paid good money for it. First, it was just classmates wanting a grade changed or wanting to erase a credit card charge for pay-per-view porn, but eventually, his contacts got bigger and deeper than classmates. He tried to keep his activities discreet, because he couldn't stand the look of disappointment on his mother's face, or the way she quietly warned his younger sibling to stay away from him, but word got around, and the money was hard to walk away from.

When he was eighteen, he was arrested and spent a couple of years at Riker's Island for identity theft. He hadn't enjoyed that at all, and when he was released just a couple of days short of his twentieth birthday, he had been determined to start over and really make something of himself. That had lasted about two hours, until the cab dropped him off at his mom's place and he found out that she had married his arresting officer and no longer had a place for her oldest son.

He spent a year or so drifting from place to place, taking money from wherever he had to. So what if he had taken a couple hundred bucks here and there from about a hundred different accounts in order to get by. Then one day, he took money from the wrong man, and suddenly there was a price on his head. Juan Carlos has been a little bit insulted to find out that his life was only worth a couple grand, but whatever the price, he had to get out of town, and fast. He packed all of his belongings into a small duffel, broke into his mother's house while the family was on vacation at the shore, stole a gun, some cash, and his stepfather's Harley. He had always wanted to see California, and he figured that, at this point, a change of scenery might really do him some good.

It had taken him nearly six months to get all the way to California. He had made a few stops, working when he had to, patching up his bike more often than he wanted to, and sleeping at more than one rest stop. When his bike finally decided to crap out once and for all, he was at a truck stop just outside of the tiny California town of Charming. He was cursing up a storm and kicking the piece of shit bike and freaking out, when he noticed a young blonde guy in a pick-up, about to be jumped. He didn't really think much before he picked up a piece of rebar from the ground and started beating the shit out of the nearest guy. He channeled all of his anger into just beating the guy senseless. Within a couple of minutes, he and the blonde guy had demolished the thugs, and Juan Carlos had somehow found himself in good standing with the local motorcycle gang.

Now, here he was, less than a year later, a Prospect for the Sons of Anarchy, Redwood Originals. It was a hard job. He worked 40 hours a week at the garage, and did endless hours of club grunt work in his spare time, but he was better off than he ever had been. He had a place to stay, a job where he earned money, people that he could count on, a bike that actually ran, and just a general sense of stability. He couldn't remember a time when he was more settled.

He had finished stocking the bar, when the door opened and a group of women came in. SAMCRO was a man's Club, but Juan Carlos knew that these women were powerful and respected. Gemma was the wife of the President and the mother of Jax Teller. She may not be a patched member, but she held sway over each and every one of the guys. There were a couple of other women, too; Louann Delaney, wife of Big Otto, a legendary Club member, and Donna Winston, wife of Opie Winston, and a couple of girlfriends. These were the Old Ladies of the Club.

He knew that he should stop, knew damned well that he shouldn't get caught eyeing the Old Ladies, but he just couldn't make himself quit. There was something about these women that just caught and held his attention. They were hard and tough, but soft where it counted. They were loyal and reliable, and they could hold their own amongst the guys. On top of that, they could fucking cook. For Juan Carlos, patching in was a long way off, but he knew that he would eventually earn a patch, and hopefully an old lady to compliment it.

His eyes quickly changed direction when the door swung open again and the guys started piling in. They all looked tired and road weary and ready for drinks. The next hour or so was a blur, as Juan Carlos just poured drink after drink and uncapped beer after beer. The music was loud and the guys were having fun, playing pool and dart and spending time with their Old Ladies. It took Juan Carlos a couple of minutes to notice the man come sit down at the bar.

"Got a light?" the man asked, the accent very nearly making his words unintelligible, but Juan Carlos managed to decipher it. "Lost mine somewhere on the road."

This was Chibs, the brother Juan Carlos was least familiar with. Most of the guys were tough on him, but they were all friendly enough and Juan Carlos could honestly say that he knew them all pretty wel. All of them except for the Scotsman in front of him. In his mind, he had always thought of Chibs as the quiet, mysterious one, though he would never, ever say that out loud, for fear of being straight up killed.

"Yeah man," he tossed his spare lighter to the man. "Hang on to it."

"Thanks," Chibs said quietly, lighting his smoke and taking a long drag.

"You want a drink?" Juan Carlos asked, eager to avoid silence. He wasn't sure why, but he liked Chibs, despite the fact that the two had never had a conversation longer than ten seconds.

"Why not," replied Chibs. "Whiskey."

That really didn't give Juan Carlos too much guidance. The bar contained about twelve different brands of whiskey, and the young man had no idea which kind Chibs preferred. He knew that if he got it wrong, though, their conversation would be over. He started to reach for the Jack Daniels, but thought the better of it. He decided to go with something at least closer to native for the Scotsman, and he reached for the Jameson and poured a healthy amount in a glass.

The older man grinned when Juan Carlos handed it over. "Good choice, Prospect."

Juan Carlos smiled, relieved that he had chosen correctly. He opened his mouth to speak, but was distracted by a peel of laughter coming from the center of the room, where most of the guys and their better halves were gathered. Juan Carlos nodded towards the group and asked Chibs, "How come you're not over there, with the rest of the guys?"

An unidentifiable look crossed Chibs' face, and Juice panicked, hoping that he hadn't done something terribly wrong. Chibs took a pull from his drink and nodded towards the group. "Look over there, Prospect, and tell me what you see."

Juan Carlos looked. He saw Clay Morrow, relaxed in the recliner, with Gemma on his lap. He saw Opie Winston leaning against the pool table, and Donna leaning against him. Jax and his latest girlfriend were on the couch, heads bent close together. Louanne was nearby laughing, and Big Otto groped her ass. Bobby and his most recent wife were enjoying the show. Juan Carlos looked back at Chibs. "I don't know. I guess I see the guys and their Old Ladies, having a good time."

"Exactly," Chibs nodded. "The guys and their Old Ladies. And I, Prospect, don't have an old lady. So here I am, keeping you company."

Juan Carlos chuckled a bit and shook his head, "Chibs, man, if you want an Old Lady, take your pick. You should hear the way the girls around here talk about you. You're like, the Holy Grail of SAMCRO."

Chibs looked at him for just a minute with an unreadable expression, before he smiled sadly. "It's not the same, Prospect. Crow eaters are Crow eaters, but you only get one Old Lady. Unless you are Bobby or Jax, and then it just depends on the day, but I am not Jax, and I sure as hell am not Bobby. But for most guys, there is only one Old Lady. I've already had my shot. Just remember, there are girls you fuck, and girls you love. Crow Eaters are the ones you fuck and Old Ladies are the ones you love. You should probably get that straight, because you don't want to confuse the two."

This was the first time that Chibs had ever even hinted to him about his own past. Juice wanted to ask exactly what the man was talking about, wanted to know more, but one look at the older man told him that it probably wasn't such a great idea. He was no expert, but if Juan Carlos had to identify what he saw on the other man's face, he would have to say that it was profound sadness. Juan Carlos instantly felt bad. He took the now empty glass from in front of Chibs and refilled it, before turning to make his own drink.

"Listen, Chibs, I didn't mean anything by it. I am kind of dumb and don't really think too hard before I speak, and-," Juan Carlos started to ramble, but he was cut off quickly.

"Don't worry on it, Prospect," Chibs told him, shortly. He picked up the glass and downed it, before lighting another smoke and moving to get up. The sadness hadn't gone away. "Thanks for the lighter."

"Chibs wait a second," Juan Carlos called as the older man made to leave. He wasn't sure why he was doing this, in fact, he had been flat out told by Gemma to not mention what he was about to mention. "Um, listen. I am not sure if I should be telling you this or not, because Gemma threatened to cut my dick off if I did, but there is something that you should probably know. Just please don't tell Gemma. I kind of like my dick where it is."

Chibs eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he nodded. "I'm listening, Prospect. What is it?"

"Uh, well. A few days ago, while you guys were gone on the run, you go a phone call," Juice started, and Chibs' expression didn't change much. "It was a woman, and she sounded, well, she sounded like you. You know, not from around here. Anyway, she asked for you, but you weren't here, which you know, of course you know. Anyway, she wouldn't tell me who she was, said you would know, but she told me to write this down and give it to you. Even spelled it out for me."

Juan Carlos took out the scrap of paper and handed it over. He watched Chibs read the message that he had written as neatly as he possibly could.

_Lá breithe sona duit, mo ghrá _**_*_**

Juan Carlos might have been mistaken, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile pass over Chibs' face, but he really couldn't be sure. Chibs just stared at the message in his hand, while Juan Carlos stood awkwardly by, taking random sips of his drink. After a minute or so, the older man carefully folded the slip of paper and slid it into his pocket.

"Thanks Prospect," Chibs said quietly, nodding at Juan Carlos.

"Yeah, of course, no problem," he replied. He wanted to ask about the woman, ask who she was, but he didn't. Some things were private, and this appeared to be one of them. Instead, he asked, "How come you didn't tell anybody it was your birthday?"

Chibs raised his eyebrows at the younger man, who shrugged in response and had the good sense to look ashamed. He was a computer guy, so when somebody gave him a message in a foreign language, it was pretty much second nature for him to find out what it said. "I Googled it."

Chibs laughed. "Of course you did. I didn't tell anyone, because nobody asked, Prospect. I am long past my birthday cake days."

"Yeah, I guess that's fair enough," Juan Carlos replied, and raised his drink to his lips again. He was aware very suddenly that he had done something wrong. "What?"

"What the fuck are you drinking, Prospect?" Chibs asked in disbelief.

Juan Carlos looked down at the drink in his hand. "Oh, it's a screwdriver," the disbelief still hadn't left Chibs' face. "It's vodka, mixed with orange juice."

"I know what a screwdriver is, Prospect," Chibs explained, as if talking to a small child. "But why the fuck are you drinking it?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, I like vodka, and I really like orange juice, it's healthy and stuff, so it's just…what I made," Juan Carlos shrugged.

Chibs looked at him for just a moment, and Juan Carlos was nervous. Finally, the Scotsman just burst out laughing. "Jesus Christ, boyo," he said, wiping at his eyes. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

"Well…good," was the best that Juan Carlos could come up with, "Laughing is supposed to be good for you, I think."

"Aye, almost as good for you as orange juice," Chibs laughed again. Suddenly, he switched topics. "You box?"

"Me? Um, no. Well, I never have before," Juan Carlos answered quickly.

"Ah," said Chibs, standing up. "Want to learn?"

"Um, yeah, I mean, okay, sure. That sounds cool," he replied.

"Good, then make yourself a real drink, and come with me, Juice. I'll teach you a thing or two," Chibs said, still smiling as he got up and headed out.

The boy stood, gobsmacked, for a couple of seconds, before he dumped his drink and poured something straight from a random bottle into his cup, rushing to catch up with Chibs.

_Juice, _he thought_. I can live with that._

*** As far as google has told me, this means "Happy birthday, my love"**


End file.
